


Lullaby

by Myth_is_a_Mirror



Category: Midnight Poppy Land (Webcomic)
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Foot Fetish (if you squint), Multiple Orgasms, Porn with Feelings, Tenderness, brief mention of childhood abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-08
Updated: 2020-04-08
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:28:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23550817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Myth_is_a_Mirror/pseuds/Myth_is_a_Mirror
Summary: Poppy draws a line in the sand. She will NOT sleep with Tora again until he builds the Ikea bed that’s been collecting dust in his living room. However, as with most things in their relationship, deeper issues lie beneath the surface.
Relationships: Poppy/Tora
Comments: 42
Kudos: 248





	Lullaby

**Author's Note:**

> Song on repeat: [Work](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0z-HsbovI4E) by Charlotte Day Wilson
> 
> Thanks to my beta reader [SerpentinaShana](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SerpentinaShana/pseuds/SerpentinaShana)! She came up with most of the Ikea jokes to be fair ;)

“This is…” My head falls back on a moan. “...the last...mmmm….time!”

“Now, Bobby…” Tora has me up against the side wall, sliding deep and fast. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

He chuckles low and his dimple winks at me. I clench around him, because I love to see him happy. But dangit, I’m still annoyed.

“I mean it! The last time!”

“Ohhh, don’t be like that, sweetheart.” With one arm holding my ass up, he leans back slightly to sneak a thumb down to my clit. The back and forth of his hips slow down. His strong arms keep me pinned up, but it’s his amber gaze that holds me prisoner. “Ya know how much I love fucking you against the wall...even better when you ride me on the couch. And sex in the shower kills two birds with one stone.”

“A grown man needs a _bed_ , Tora! A real bed.” I growl from a combination of my body losing all will to keep fighting and my own stubbornness. “I will not...I will not sleep with you again until you put the bed together.”

“We’re not sleeping.” He thrusts up, so thick and tight.

“ _You_ _know what I mean_!” I’m nearly shouting. He pushes my buttons, in more ways than one.

His hand comes up to pull at my cheeks as he fucks me faster. His smirk kills me. I hate that I love it so much.

“Unnhh!” I scratch my nails across his chest and up into his hair, rotating on him, ready to blow. “You’re a mess, you know that?”

“I’m your mess.” His voice gentles on a megawatt smile, the rare kind that makes my chest ache. I groan and lean back, give in for the moment in how happy he is, how happy I am.

He carefully straightens my legs, one by one, and moves them onto his shoulders until my toes touch behind his neck. His cock is impossibly deep, almost overwhelming.

“Goooooooddddddd.” The word comes out on a long exhale. My whole body must be flushed.

“Not a god, though I know you get confused when I fold you up like this.” He holds an ass cheek in each hand and drags out to the tip. Pressing back in, he licks his lips. “Mmmm, that’s right. Perfect fit.”

Down the curves and lumps of my body, I can just make out his thick, wet cock as it pulls out. When it thumps back in, my body arches back. There’s nothing like this. Like him. His body is amazing, but it’s his...his tenderness that made me fall. So hard and so fast.

 _Hard and fast._ It’s always a blur in the last moments, just perfect intimacy. He’s really laying into me now. His body pounds against mine with sloppy, indecent sounds. When I open my eyes again, his alert, molten gaze studies me.

“Ya okay, sweetheart?”

Why does he have to say it so soft? I shudder out a sigh.

He laughs. “I can’t figure out if ya like it better when I boss you around or treat you like a porcelain doll.”

“Both…” Heavy lidded with arousal and exhaustion, I blink to clear my head. “Why not both?”

“Your wish is my command.” His pace picks up speed. There’s nothing more erotic than the sound of our flesh slapping against each other. My fingernails dig into the meat of his chest. Peonies and fish. Not the tough guy tattoos I expected, but nothing’s ever what we think, is it? His dick turns me into a philosopher, I swear.

“Ya ready to let go?” He leans down to suck one of my nipples, sliding in and out, faster now. Popping off, he bites my bottom lip, fingers digging into my ass. His long hair swishes with each thrust, fragrant with cedar and smoke. “Come, sweetheart. I wanna see ya break apart for me.”

“Hmmm...Aaah.” I’m almost there.

“That tight pussy is strangling my cock. Come...please”

Dirty talk is my weakness, especially when he’s sweet. There’s something about his insistence that I come first that always _makes_ me come first. I’ll never get tired of it.

My muscles seize on a ragged cry and I curl into him. His hot breath exhales faster as he pummels me hard. Soon, he’s trembling too. In those last, messy moments, we’re always one and the same.

**3 hours later:**

The couch creaks when I lean over to grab the remote. Tora snores at my side. The closing song of _Stairway to Heaven_ plays as I switch off the TV, still sniffling. The K-drama left me dehydrated from crying so much.

I slip out from under his heavy arm and pad quietly to the sink for some water. I fill a second glass for him.

 _Kyaa_!

Pain radiates from my foot as I tumble forward. Water sloshes and spills over me, Tora, and the couch. He shakes awake, startled gaze at the door. His fists go up and he circles around me, an immediate instinct for self defense.

“What is it?” he barks.

I try to steady my shaking breaths, take my mind off the pain in my big toe, and put the half-empty glasses down. Turning to him, I’m more furious than I’ve ever been.

“ _THIS_ is!” I point to the over-sized Ikea box, the bed frame he doggedly refuses to construct.

My butts drops to the couch, right in the middle of a water drenched spot. I grit my teeth to stop from yelling or crying. Propping my foot up on my knee, I poke at the swollen red toe. Tears leak from my eyes. I can never just be angry. Why do I always have to cry?

“Baby…” Tora crouches in front of me. “Sweetheart...are you okay?”

“No.” I sniffle. After all the crying from the tv too, I’m sure I look wholly pathetic. Who cares? Another part of me grows resolute. Stubborn.

He mean mugs the huge cardboard box. “I’ll throw the fuckin’ piece of shit in the dumpster and light it on fire.”

“Enough!” I grab both sides of his face, digging my fingers into his scalp. From his startled gaze, I know I must look like a madwoman. “You’re putting that bed together. Now!”

His gaze searches mine, almost...afraid.

“I deserve to sleep in a real bed here, not treated like some floozy.” He’s never made me feel like that, but there’s something so temporary about it here, nowhere to relax.

“Of course you do.” His face falls. “You deserve more than a stupid, cheap ass bed.”

He twists around and starts ripping the box open. An animal would have more tact.

I realize my error in an instant. I deserve the bed, not him. Tora isn’t lazy by a longshot. There’s something else behind his reluctance to set it up.

“ _You_ deserve a place to lay your head,” I say quietly.

Silence stretches between us. A muscle at his jaw ticks as he takes out all the supplies and glances over the instruction booklet before tossing it on the couch.

His issue with the bed is deeper. It can wait. I resolve to give him space and move to clear out his bedroom. It’s mostly full of boxes, workout equipment, and a lopsided dressing closet. Everything goes to one side, and I sweep the floor. Each time I peek into the main room, his broad shoulders are tense, and he grumbles incoherently. The instruction manual lays on the floor at his side, wrinkled from abuse.

When the room is clean, I pad up behind him and place a hand in his messy hair, finger combing it. After weeks of begging him to put it together, I’m afraid to break his concentration.

“Going well?” I keep my voice soft.

He exhales but doesn’t look up, reaching one hand to grab the instruction manual, none too gently, and thrusts it up to me. “This makes no fuckin’ sense. It’s in hieroglyphics or some shit.”

I smile, silently, afraid for him to hear me laugh. The instructions are comically simple but at the same time almost impossible to get right.

“How does this even fit?” He growls. A tiny silver L-shaped wrench wavers then falls out of his huge hand.

“Other people seem fully capable.” I go with egging on his competitive side rather than treating him like a baby. 

“Harsh, sweetheart. Harsh.” He picks up the little tool and leans forward, trying to fit it back into the empty hexagonal space.

I place the instruction booklet on the arm of the sofa and leaf through it while gathering up his hair in my hands. Using a spare hair tie on my wrist, I twist the soft, inky mass into a messy half bun. I think I figured out where he went wrong, but I’ll give him another minute. Tension radiates off him.

“F&^$ Mother-^#*$%,” he shouts followed by a few deep breaths. Calmer, he turns to me. “Please...take this doll-size demon wrench away from me before I swallow it whole.”

That shouldn’t turn me on, but it does. Sure he’s got anger issues, but he’s always so careful with me. He trusts me when he’s stuck.

“I’ve got the small stuff. You grab the big pieces and follow me.” I take the little wrench and tap it against my lips. “Let’s try a new approach.”

The lines around his eyes fade away, and that soft expression I love dawns. “Sure, babe.”

Back in his room, surrounded by a much better organized stack of supplies, with the instruction booklet in my hand, I thump to a seat on the floor. Tora slides behind me, unfolding his long, warm legs to lay against mine. His hands land on my upper thighs and squeeze.

The heat of his body is already a distraction as my nipples harden under my top.

“I’m not used to working with small equipment.” He grinds closer to me, lips grazing my ear.

Well if that isn’t the truth, but I don’t egg him on. _I need to focus!_

“You babysit Quincey all day.” I look up at him, all innocence. “I thought you had more experience with tools.”

The laughter that shakes out of him shocks me with its volume, but he hugs me tight.

“There’s no one like you, sweetheart.” He bites my neck lightly. “That brilliant, snarky mind always slays me.”

He’s being sweet, but now is not the time. I crack my neck and keep working in silence, hammering tiny wooden dowels into place along a long board.

“How do you even pronounce the name of this bed?” he asks.

“Neiden. _Knee-den.”_

“Well, I’m only doing this because I _Neiden_ between those thighs.” He squeezes my leg, palms moving inward. 

“You’re gonna _Neiden_ this instruction booklet if you wanna get anywhere near these thighs.” I slap his hands and pass the plastic bag of extra screws and instructions over my shoulder.

From then on, I direct and he obeys. _Brains and braun_ , he said, but I still feel there’s something else behind his reluctance. Tora isn't dumb or lazy. 

I’m starving and he’s sweating by the time the frame is done. He wrestles the slats and foundation board into place while I heat up soup and some frozen dumplings. When I bring the food into the room, he’s throwing the rolled up mattress from his shoulder to the bed, unrolling it carefully.

Barefoot in sweatpants and a ripped t-shirt, my breath catches at the sight of him. I marvel at the sheer strength and size of the beastly man I’m in love with.

Looking up at me after tugging the new sheets on, his brows furrow. “You get some food, sweetheart?”

So concerned. I swallow the last of the dumpling I ate on the way in and nod. I give him the other three, which he destroys immediately.

Folding my legs under me, I scoot up on the bed with the bowl of soup, careful not to spill. 

We really shouldn’t eat on the brand new mattress and sheets, but there’s something special about this moment. I can feel it in the silence and the gentle way he moves.

He sits cross-legged in front of me and takes off his shirt. How can a man smell better sweaty? I blink and force my gaze away from his ripped stomach to find him smirking at me. Still, he doesn’t say anything, not even a little tease. He grabs the bowl and holds the bottom by the palm of one large hand.

Besides not having a bed, Tora doesn’t own a whole lot of anything. As for dishes, this one large bowl is what we share most times when we eat. He has plastic cups, a couple reusable to-go containers, and a smattering of mismatched silverware unorganized in drawers. But this is the only big dish, and our meals here have become an intimate tradition.

I always have the first bite. Even though I brought two spoons, he dips his into the broth and lifts it to my lips. As I open for the steamy, delicious goodness, his gaze follows my mouth. Hungry.

I lick my lips then grab the utensil and feed him a bite. This moment, on this new bed, is so tender I force myself not to kiss him. The second spoon is forgotten. Like newlyweds over a wedding cake, we feed each other until the bowl is nearly empty. I insist he drink what’s left, and his soup warmed lips kiss me on the cheek when he's done.

My body tingles, overheated, and not from furniture construction. 

I place the bowl on the floor and sit up on my knees on the mattress. Trailing my fingers down his face, I push until he falls on his back. Everything smells clean and new. I kiss him lightly then rub a thumb over his bottom lip.

“Is this seat taken?”

His brows pinch together in confusion followed by a huge grin and a loud laugh. “Little minx! That is quite the pickup line. Who’ve you used it on?”

I laugh as he spanks the side of my ass. “No one. You know that. It was just something dumb Erdene told me.”

“Not dumb.” He pulls me astride him and presses up so I can feel his erection. His thin sweatpants have been driving me crazy all night. “It sounds like a promise.”

“Well, I gave you my terms about the bed, and you honored them.” I tear off my shirt and nearly laugh at my next words. “Where shall I take my seat?”

“Hmmm.” He nuzzles into the cleavage spilling out of my old sports bra. Pulling it up, he trails his lips to the side and bites along the curve of my breast. When he pulls a nipple into his mouth and looks up at me, that insatiable spark is in his gaze. I swear, we’ll never get enough of each other. The desire is endless. “Take those panties off and sit on my face, sweetheart. I’m still a little hungry.”

* * *

Twenty minutes later, I leave a naked Poppy to catch her breath in the bedroom while I get us some water. Damn, that woman does something to me.

When I enter the room, she’s leaning back against the headboard. One leg is folded up and her eyes close on a soft smile. I’m struck dumb at the sight.

The bed we built together is covered in dark floral sheets and square pillows in a weird, modern design. The solid wood frame has a flat planed headboard. It’s a...real bed. 

A lump forms in my throat - old memories and new ones war for dominance. 

Her gaze opens and locks on me. Those round, sweet eyes ground me every time.

She lets me watch her, chewing on her lip, but doesn’t cover up her nakedness. _Good girl._ In the weeks we’ve been together, I’ve loved on her body at every opportunity. Maybe she’s started to see it the way I do - soft and perfect.

“Whatcha thinking about?” she asks.

“You.” I wink and walk over to hand her a water cup. 

“ _Pfft_.” She waves a hand. My fingers trail over the big toe she stubbed on the box earlier. It’s a little red, but she’s not complaining.

We gulp down our water quickly. I’ve really put her body through the ringer today after a few days on a job, but I missed her.

“You look like a queen on her throne.”

She smiles and pulls me to the bed with hands linked behind my neck. I crawl over and kiss her nose. Falling on my side, my hands grope and slide over every delicious curve.

"You're my throne." She pushes me on my back and pulls my pants off. Straddling me, her fingers grip my manhood and notch it to her warm center. Just like that, I’m dumbstruck again. She sinks down slightly, bracing against my chest. Wet arousal dampens her fingertips as she sinks her claws into my chest, breath hitching. Her heat envelops me. "This bed is our first home."

 _Oof_. Her words always hit me straight in the heart. Butterfly kisses fall to my face and I grip her tighter, urge her deeper still.

"We'll make dreams here, Tora." She’s balls deep on me, just rocking. Her fingers grip the sides of my skull as she leans close. "And if the nightmares come, I'll be here to fight them off."

Tears sting my eyes. She means it. My girl is a fighter. And her strength, for no reason I can understand, makes me want to cry like a fuckin’ K-drama. My throat is so tight, I can't say anything. Well, maybe one thing.

“I love you.” My voice cracks. 

“What is it about you not wanting this bed? Tell me, so I can help.”

I pull her closer to me and sit back up, scooting against the headboard. It jostles my dick inside her, and she moans. With one hand pulling her tight to me, the other connects with her palm until all the pads of our fingers line up. Her hips move in maddening, tiny circles. Our bodies connect at every point.

“I don’t wanna think about that now.” Not while I'm inside her body. Safe. She dances on me slowly, helping to erase all the hours in dark rooms and bloody clothes when she's not around. But her truth-telling eyes demand a real answer. “So the bed...well, the thing is...my training always started at night.”

“Training?” Her palm slides down my cheek, rubbing in a soothing motion. I lean into the contact.

“Crime happens at night. As a kid, Balthuman liked to drag me from bed when I least expected it.” I think back to waking up when she stubbed her toe, how easily startled I am. Her body on me and mine inside her, keeps me focused on the present. I tuck the wisps of messy hair from her face. “Sleep is...when I’m weak. I like to face the front door, like a…” I know she’s gonna hate this part, but I have to say it, because it’s the truth. “Like a guard dog. Ever since I was eight years old, beds have never been safe.”

“Eight! Eight years old?” Her eyes go wide with fury, head whipping to the door as if she'd leave and take on Vincent right this moment. _My murder hamster._

“Ya not going out in the dead of night to kill a gang king with your bare hands, sweetheart.” I pinch her cute little cheeks and thrust up to get her moving again. Ahhh, there she goes. Her anger she puts into bouncing on me. Fuckin’ beautiful how feisty she is. And dangerous. “We’ve talked about this, sweetheart. Balthuman’s too big. Anyway, it’s just a dumb fear.”

"Not dumb. Valid.” She kisses the side of my face as she moves. “You never deserved that."

"It's in the past." I swallow. My heart and body are hers. Slick and tight, her pussy is already twitching. God, I love this woman. It’s too much. “You’re my future now.”

Enough of this serious talk. I'm a man of action, and the love of my life is riding my cock. I grab her hips and pump her up and down for dear life. She gasps and braces against me, struggling to match my rhythm with her own. We're panting together, moving in that way we always do where there's no separation between us. She’s seen an older part of me, and it didn’t scare her off.

“Can I remap your brain to new memories of beds at least?” she asks between hums and gasps. Always trying to fix things, she pushed to get this bed made, and she’ll keep pushing me on this. I know I have to start facing my demons if I want an angel in my future.

“Remap my brain? Sounds kinky.” My stupid joke doesn’t land, judging by her pouty scowl. She doesn’t allow deflection. "But seriously, at this point, I believe you could do anything.”

That earns me a smile.

“Ooh!” she squeaks when I bite her chin and push her down on the mattress so I can fuck her properly. There’s really something to all this extra space. I spread her knees wide and she tilts up, boneless and soft. I’ve never seen her this open. The pressure in this position is heaven. I press in and out to a punishing cadence. 

“Ahhh, this is nice, isn’t it?” Her hips pop up and wedge me deeper. She grips the rails of the foot board and braces against it, giving my thrusts new power. Each time I bottom out, she exhales a satisfied grunt. I could watch her breasts shake for hours, but its her victorious smile that tugs at my heart. “A proper bed was a good idea.”

I growl but grin at the same time, unwilling to say she was right. She knows it. I pick up her foot with the stubbed toe and kiss it, letting my other palm fall to her soft stomach. My thumb sneaks down and rubs at her clit as I press my lips against the bruise.

“Sorry about your toe, sweetheart.” I kiss and lick at it. “Does this make it all better?”

I suck on her toe at the same time I rub harder on that secret bundle of nerves. Her clit is caught between my thumb and my thick, thrusting cock.

“You…My…” She blinks, watching me suck her toe and rub at the arch of her foot. Her back bows up and she comes, clenching on me like a vise. I only last another few seconds before I fall over her and breathe in the flowery scent of her hair. We pulse around each other. There’s nothing better.

I lean back up on my elbows. Her lips are plump and swollen from kissing, her skin flushed in bright pink splotches. Her hair is a beautiful disaster. My perfect, messy angel. My protector. More than I deserve, but I’m selfish and I’ll take it anyway.

“You made the bed. I guess I need a new challenge.” She taps her finger against her lips. “Hmmm...maybe I can get my own soup bowl this time. Something more than plastic utensils and takeout containers.”

I lean down and kiss her slow, coming up only to answer, “Nope.”

 _More like, Hell no._ Feeding her is too much fun. I make a mental note to throw away all the spoons except one.

Her eyes twinkle with mischief and a secret smile I know all too well. She’s hoping for change. A new challenge always does that to her. I would know. I’m one of them.

“It’s bedtime, mister.” She slides out from under me and arranges the pillows and blanket like a nesting bird. Her arms beckon me over. “Come here.”

I army crawl over and lay my head in her lap, letting my fingers zigzag up and down her legs. It’s been a fuckin’ week, and it all seems to hit me at once - a belly full of food, satisfaction at being with her, and exhaustion at the shit I have to deal with just to keep us safe.

 _“The snow begins to fall,”_ Poppy’s voice is quiet and lilting. I’ve never heard her sing, and I swear butterflies flutter in my stomach. _“The baby cries. How can I be happy…I don't have nice clothes...”_

I chuckle and pinch the skin at her knee. “Sweetheart, this lullaby is depressing.”

“Don’t listen to the words, just my voice.” She pats my cheek lightly with a shushing sound and rakes her nails over my scalp. Oooh, I can be a good dog for scratches. “Now close your eyes and rest, my little love.”

 _Little?_ I can’t help but smile. Poppy always does this to me. I find myself grinning out of nowhere. The small, happy moments always catch me off guard. 

_“To the other side of the mountain, I can see my home,_ ” she sings.

The spidery start of tightness grips my chest. As her fingers pick up their languid trail through my hair, the pressure loosens. My scalp tingles, and everything grows warm. 

_“To the other side of the mountain, I can see my home.”_

Our first home. That’s what she called this bed. A place to lay our heads. It’s the opposite of all my terrifying memories. 

Maybe one little nap won’t hurt. The world grows dark as my eyes blink slower.

Life wasn’t supposed to be like this, not for me. But damn if it doesn’t feel right.

**Author's Note:**

> The song referenced is the Takeda Lullaby from Japan. Have a listen [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B27yQMuTHWc). This [wikipedia article](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Takeda_Lullaby) has some great historical context on how it was a used in the 1960s as theme song for some of the Burakumin community, people often ostracized for taking on occupations considered impure or tainted by death.
> 
> If you like my stuff, subscribe here on AO3 or [follow me on twitter](https://twitter.com/mythisamirror) for updates and thirsty content. I mostly write Lore Olympus fanfic, but MPL has my heart all aflutter. Fanfic writers don't get paid, so the only dopamine hits are from your kudos and comments!!
> 
> Standard disclaimer: Any similarity between this fan fiction and Midnight Poppy Land canon is due to being a super-fan who pays attention to details. Personally, I take no issue with any similarities that may arise as it would be a total coincidence or a good guess on my part. This is a fan fiction of Lily Dusk's body of work, and she retains all rights to the characters and world.


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